Tank

The President of the United States didn't really bestow the nickname, "Tank," on the young Marine, although that made a good story. POTUS did meet Tank at the National Naval Medical Center, and he took an immediate liking to the charming young man. But he didn't coin the nickname. In typical Marine camaraderie, Tank's fellow wounded combatants bestowed the moniker.

Tank arrived at NNMC Bethesda in that first wave of injured Marines. He was a victim not of enemy fire, but an equally dangerous threat called "DNBI," for "Disease/Non-Battle Injury." Simply defined, DNBI is death or disability that we inflict on ourselves. Looking at any conflict in our history you will find that DNBI usually exacts a larger toll on battle effectiveness than does any enemy action.*

A U.S. Abrams tank caused the non-battle injury to its namesake Marine. In the heat of sustained combat operations, Marines rest when and where they can. Tank dozed with his back warmed by the Iraqi sand. By design, his desert camoflague uniform blended right into the terrain, and the driver of the maneuvering vehicle never saw him. One track of the Abrams ran over Tank's body at pelvic level. If laying on asphalt or concrete, he would have been killed almost instantly. But the soft sand absorbed enough crushing pressure that he sustained reparable injuries, a fractured pelvis and ruptured bowel.

He came to Bethesda with a repaired bowel, temporary colostomy, and still bedridden from the fractured pelvis...physically and emotionally still in combat. His indomitable spirit rapidly overcame the restriction to bed. No wallowing in the rack for this Marine! Before we knew it, he was up on crutches. Every day he made his own rounds on the ward where about 30 wounded Marines recovered from a variety of injuries. He exhorted them, cajoled them, encouraged them. "Oo-rah, Marine," he would say. "Look at me. If I can do this, so can you!"

Most of those wounded Marines did survive and got on with their post-traumatic lives, in or out of the Marine Corps. But in truth, our advanced trauma care and sophisticated technology were merely adjuncts to the primary healing force on that ward: Tank and other Marines like him who simply refused to quit, refused to consider themselves disabled, and rallied each other to health.

I recall another recovering young Marine's immediate response when asked where he wanted to go for convalescent leave upon discharge from acute care in the late spring of 2003.

"Bagdad," he said.

Semper Fi, Marines!


*In my early flight surgery days I did a little study demonstrating how injuries sustained in hangar bay basketball games and other recreational sports negatively impacted the medical readiness of an aircraft carrier's crew. The conclusion asked for improved safety measures, not cessation of these important recreational outlets for deployed sailors.